PRAGUE

Prague was indeed old world/fairytale/Hogwarts/slightly creepy/mysterious/stunning and everything else everyone said it would be. But the journey there deserves its own little story.

The trip started off with a 2-hour delay out of Heidelberg. A lot better than 5, I thought. I changed trains in Munich, and just as I was about to board the Prague-bound train, I had an odd feeling something was going to be funky about the trip. The readerboard said Prague—only Prague—and I would normally just climb on the train wherever and accidentally sit in first class until I was told to move. But something in me told me to get on at the back. As I approach the last few cars, I noticed a few paper signs taped to some of the windows that said Prague. Well, yeah, we’re going to Prague, I thought, but the weird feeling stuck with me. As my grandma would say later, my guardian angels must have been working overtime. I hope they get a raise…or at least a pizza party.

All was well despite some shaky announcements that were repeated in German and Czech and kept cutting out. It sounded like the system was malfunctioning, but since neither of those languages would help me out anyway, I didn’t worry. Most of the passengers on the train got off within the next few stops. When we had nearly reached the border, the train came to a sudden halt and made some odd clanking noises. The other four people in my car started talking frantically in a language I definitely didn’t speak, and I turned to ask if anyone spoke English. They drunkenly stared at me through a row of nearly empty liquor bottles, then resumed their conversation. I was in great company.

Then the train took off. Backwards. A couple of other people entered our car and asked something in German. I only caught the words Praha and Hof. No one shared a language, but I pieced together that the train had split, and half was going to Prague and the other half to Hof, wherever the heck that was. And I didn’t know which half I was on. I was just hoping those paper signs at the back of the train meant something. I looked at my maps app to see if it looked like I was heading the right way and saw I didn’t have service. Apparently splitting trains are pretty common in Germany, but they’re usually a lot more clearly marked.

A while later, an announcement (in several languages, including English!) came on: “Train destined for Prague.” The drunk people started shouting something about Hof. Then came another announcement—in English but back to shaky. I gathered there had been some sort of accident and we would all have to get off the train at the next stop and take a bus somewhere.

The train did not stop at the next platform, but instead in the middle of the tracks, and the 30 remaining passengers and I got off. A guy who looked like he’d been on the road for the last few years (seemed like he’d know what was up) pointed to some shack thing across a field and everyone followed. I had a What am I doing following a random guy to a shack in the middle of the Czech Republic? moment followed by a What else would I do? moment.

To my relief, a few buses were lined up behind the shack, and the woman working at the station told us to get on quick. “They all go to the same place.” Neither the woman’s mouth nor her cigarette moved when she talked.

We boarded a bus, a driver showed up, and we were off through fields, forests, and dirt roads. The views were actually spectacular, and we would have missed out had we continued on the train. About two hours later, we pulled into a parking lot and the driver said, “Last stop. Bus turns around here. Get off.” Luckily, there was a train station nearby, so the pack headed in that direction. Someone thought we were going to miss the train (no idea how they had any clue), but everyone started running, so I ran with them.

We arrived at the station, backpacks thumping, and a worker who was missing all his teeth and seemed energized by our state of panic, yelled something and pointed to a platform. A train with Prague on the route pulled in, we boarded, and I was immensely happy not to be going to Hof.

I sat next to a young woman heading to visit her family in Ukraine. Her brother had been injured in combat and the family had been able to have him transported to a hospital near the Romanian border. It sounded like he wasn’t in good condition. “He might recover, but he knows we are all going to be with him and are proud of him. He will go where he’s meant to go.” The world is full of brave, inspiring people who make you and your problems seem very small (in a good way). The sun was setting as we pulled into the Prague station. I said goodbye to the woman and wished her a safe journey and the best possible recovery for her brother. It was good to arrive.

“Prague is my favorite city in Europe!” “The astronomical clock!” “The bridge!” “The Harry Potter (Strahov Monastery) library!” Prior to my trip, everyone had something good to say about Prague.

All three days I spent in Prague were overcast with varying degrees of rain. My Paris umbrella proved to be a worthwhile purchase and it accompanied me around the city’s main square with its black, spikey turrets, blocky town hall tower (which features the astronomical clock), and rows of ornate, pastel buildings. Aesthetically, it all goes together surprisingly well. Some of the buildings have been rebuilt or repaired post WWII, but it still has the old-world feeling.

I wandered through downtown to the Powder Tower—very similar to the astronomical clock tower but built over the road with a bridge through the middle. I took a photo of a group of young women who were studying abroad in Germany. I guess I look approachable and available (which can be good or bad depending on the situation…) because I took a lot of photos of groups, couples, and families. I really don’t mind—in fact, I enjoyed it. It’s a very simple, small thing, but it’s nice to know you gave a family a non-selfie photo in front of a cathedral or bridge they may only see once.

I headed toward the Charles Bridge and stopped to see what was going on under a massive tent: a Europa League 3x3 women’s basketball tournament. There was a decent viewing spot from the outside, so I stayed to watch a few plays.

The bridge is sandwiched between two more towers/city gates. I liked the uniformity of all the Prague towers. It made the city seem like it really knew who it was—a little like one of my former professors who wore exclusively bright monochrome outfits. If it was hot pink day or peacock blue day, she fully committed. And it really worked for her.

The other side of the bridge was hillier, but the architecture was quite similar. Either this side of the city had a lot more restaurants, or I was getting hungry because that’s mostly what I noticed. And an excess of clocks: clock faces on towers, mini clocks outside shops, ornate clocks decorating building fronts—Cinderella would have thrived in Prague.

I’d been told the funnel cakes were a must-eat, so I waited outside a funnel cake shop in a line of damp tourists. They roll the dough into a cone over a fire and coat it with cinnamon and probably too much sugar. It was the perfect treat for a rainy day, and apparently the wasps agreed.

I was fully content to wander the rest of the day. You can walk down the same street many times and always notice new things. I ate a dinner of sausage and various pickled things in the main square outside under a giant awing while the rain poured. Cozy and Prague-y. (Probably more touristy than Prague-y, but it was a happy moment.)

I finished eating around dusk, so I climbed to the top of the astronomical clock tower to see the city lit up. The tower actually closed before it really got dark, but the views from above were somehow even cooler than the street views I’d seen all day: dark red and turquoise (tarnished copper) rooftops were a lovely end to a lovely day.

The next day I had a few things on the agenda I definitely wanted to see, so I headed across the river again. I’d been planning to hit the grocery store for breakfast/lunch, but I walked past a café that looked way too meto not go inside. Forget Pinterest—this place is the mood board for my future home. Plants, cozy lighting, teapots, colorful wall art, upcycled furniture. It was empty except for one guy who was clearly The Regular. Middle-aged hipster. Bald with a full Gandalf beard. Corduroy pants. Reading and working on a full teapot (probably rooibos). Digital nomad prototype. The only breakfast items on the menu were various teas, coffee, and avocado toast. That was fine—all things I would order anyway, and I didn’t even have to make a decision.

Post-breakfast, I walked to the Prague castle. I tried to take a shortcut, which landed me on private property. Sometimes it doesn’t pay off. The castle is cool from close up because you can see all the details, but it’s in a pretty small courtyard, which makes it difficult to see the whole thing. I think the best view is actually from below on the other side of the river.

I’d seen pictures of the Strahov Monastery library prior to the trip, and it was the top thing I wanted to see. It had a lot of strange reviews like, “Terrible experience. You have to buy a ticket, and they don’t even let you go in the part with the books.” Or “The guy selling tickets doesn’t speak English, and we could just tell he didn’t like our kids.” I think some people use Yelp to release pent-up anger. The library was small, but I easily spent an hour inside. It’s true that you can only walk through the main hall. You see the Philosophical Hall and the Theological Hall where the books are stored through large windows. But it makes sense—they don’t want a bunch of sticky-fingered people touching 500-year-old volumes. It was also nice to see the halls void of people.

The main hall also held plenty of interesting (and slightly disturbing) items. The Strahov monks were some of the first to begin studying and cataloguing different plants, animals, and minerals. About half the hall was filled with cases of smallish preserved animals and plants. I was told by a trusted source that the photos of these may be disturbing to some, so I’ll leave them in my camera roll.

The monks had also been cartographers, so the other half of the hall held a collection of terrestrial and celestial globes. The shapes of the continents looked surprisingly accurate, but were labeled differently, of course.

My last evening in Prague was the rainiest yet, but I didn’t want to miss seeing the central square one last time. It started pouring, so I ducked into a candy store and looked around for a present for my host siblings. “Ah, are you traveling alone?” the man working there asked. Maybe he just meant to make conversation, but his tone made me uncomfortable, and there are certain times where it’s better not to give someone the benefit of the doubt. “HA! That would be dumb,” I answered and immediately left.

It was still pouring, which I naturally decided was 100% the fault of Creepy Candy Store Man, so I headed back toward the hostel. I made mint tea and sat on some floor cushions in common room (which was one of the coziest I’ve seen) to journal. It was a lovely, peaceful evening, which made me realize I’d been going pretty much nonstop for the last 9 days or so and needed a bit of slowness.

It was only 9:00 p.m., but the rain and early sunset made it feel like midnight, so I shoved everything into my backpack (which was getting more difficult as the trip went on) and said goodnight to Prague.